PEACE BEFORE STORM
The 18th of March dawned clear and bright, the wind still a little
chill, but the whole land, as we looked down upon it from our Gobelet
watch-tower on the front of St. Andre's hill, tinted white and pink with
blossom, almond, peach, pear, plum, and cherry. It was wonderful to see
them running up, as it were scrambling over fence and rock scarp, till
they broke in a sunshiny spray of hawthorn blossom against the grey
walls of the _lycee_ of St. Andre.
Never was there a quieter day nor one that seemed filled with more happy
promise. For the first time Linn and Alida had resumed their old
understanding. For there is no doubt that Linn had been somewhat jealous
of the absorbing commerce between the house of Deventer and the cottage
in the laurel bushes beyond the garden of Gobelet.
Keller had gone to Aramon, Linn said. He might be away all night, for he
had it in his mind to push as far as Marseilles. I knew of the Bey's
absences from Autun, and so thought no more of the matter. Linn, put in
good humour by having Alida to herself (for me she did not count),
talked freely of the beauties of their installation. The Basse Cour and
the poultry especially delighted her, and she had already prepared a
ruled book which was to show in parallel columns the cost of feeding as
compared with the result in chickens and eggs.
All that day no one crossed over the bridge from Chateau Schneider and
the time was blessed for Linn. She knew very well that it was for just
such companionship that Alida had come to Aramon. She had herself
supported the necessity for change, even against her husband. But all
the same, now when she got her Princess a day to herself she made the
most of it, falling back into her old caressing habits and ready to
treat Alida as the little girl who long ago had been put in her hands
with all a queen's habits of command and the sweet waywardness of a
child.
I helped when I could and fetched huge stuffed buffets and cushions, so
that Alida could install herself beside my father at the fishpond, and
then I left him to make his usual conquest. He was smiling and tranquil
as I remember, but with an unwonted eagerness in his eye, which did not
by any means come from the anticipation of a morning with Alida. I
remembered afterwards that he had had an interview the night before with
Keller Bey in which they had talked much Arabic, and early this morning
he had dispatched Saunders McKie over the water with a letter to Dennis
Deventer. But these things did not fall into place in my mind, at least
not till long afterwards.
We had a happy day among the sunflecked glades of Gobelet--that is,
Alida, my father and I. When they two were alone, they talked Arabic,
but ceased as soon as I joined them.
Conscious of the awkwardness Alida renewed her offer to teach me
colloquially if my father would put me in the way of learning the
grammar, while I regretted bitterly having wasted my time at St. Andre.
Finally to change the subject we fell to talking over the Montmorencies
and their _Tour Carree_ on the heights of Aramon le Vieux. Here at hand,
where the Tessiers slept at the far side of Dennis Deventer's flying
bridge of steel, was their gateway tower, still pitted by the balls of
Mazarin's troops. For a Montmorency of those days, probably held in
leash by his wife, had taken the popular side in the wars of the Fronde.
Down there on that islet in the reign of Louis XII (said my father) a
great tournament was held in which the knights of France, light and
lissom, overwhelmed the weightier champions of Burgundy.
If we had been more watchful as we talked, we might have seen the smoke
die out of the tall chimneys of Aramon-les-Ateliers, the blast furnaces
withdraw their crowns of pale flame, and an unnatural quiet settle down
upon the busy city.
But our minds were bent wholly on giving pleasure to Alida. She must be
taken through this glade, climb this steep path, and see the marvellous
spectacle of the Rhone delta with its wide wastes wandered over by
fierce cattle, its sinuous waterways blocked by the only beavers
remaining in Europe, and far away beyond it the violet-blue bar of the
Midland Sea.
We did indeed conduct Alida from admiration to admiration, and she had
what I fear Rhoda Polly would have called "the time of her life." It did
strike me several times how strange it was that since my father had sent
his morning message to Dennis Deventer, we had had no news of the
household at Chateau Schneider.
I sounded Saunders on the subject, but he knew nothing, or at least
would tell nothing.
"The letter? Oh, Maister Dennis just read it and put it in his waistcoat
pooch. Syne, says he, 'Saunders, will ye drink?' 'No,' says I; for if I
did, when I gaed hame I micht smell! So he gied me yin o' thae French
sovereigns as easy as puttin' a penny in the plate. Oh, a grand man is
Maister Deventer when ye get the richt side o' him, but as they tell me
the very deevil and a' when his monkey is up. Do you ken, Maister
Aaengus, he was just trying me on, by asking me to drink? For if I had
ta'en as muckle as a sup frae his hand, I micht hae whistled for the wee
French sovereign--whilk is only barely worth saxteen shillings when a'
is said and done!"
Nevertheless in the full bliss of ignorance we idled away the day while
about us the flowers grew as we looked at them, so keen an edge was on
that spring day. Linn ranged her napery cupboards to her most perfect
content, not that she could do it better than Mrs. Deventer had done,
but simply for the satisfaction of, as it were, expressing her mind and
doing it differently.
The shadows passed steadily across the sundial. The underneath
inscription became more strongly incised as the sun dipped westward. The
rock plants on the little island in the pond fell into shadow and some
closed up their petals for the night. And still in the midst of a great
silence we moved and smiled and were happy. Aramon le Vieux drowsed
beneath us. The good wives at their doors were out gossiping their
hardest, but in undertones which must not pass from one group to
another. Cats sunned themselves in window sills beyond the reach of the
prowling cur, and the majestic river, so soon to be split and worried
into a hundred waterways, _etangs_ and backwaters, passed noiselessly in
front of us in one noble rush, level, calm, and swift.
I think it was about three o'clock in the afternoon when Professor
Renard, coming from the post office, where the telegraph had been
recently installed, brought tidings.
"There is a revolt in Paris," he said, "the soldiers and the National
Guard have expelled the Government. That is the news they have received,
but no one knows whether it is false or true."
Nor in the midst of our quiet park with the fruit trees in blossom
everywhere could we have any guess at the turmoil, the riding of
orderlies, and the hasty ordering of official carriages in Paris.
Indeed, the talk passed to other matter and on the surface, and the
tidings seemed to affect us little. So having left Linn still busy with
her linen, Alida and I took our way to the look-out summer-house above
the aerial swing of the suspension bridge, leaving the elders talking
very soberly together.
"Surely there is no danger here?" the girl asked when we had seated
ourselves. She spoke not from any fear but that she might contrive means
of helping her friends the Deventers if they needed it.
"Not that I know of," I answered, "but the workmen of Aramon are always
fiery and hard to handle. We _have_ had battles and sieges, yet things
were smoothed over and the works went on as before--the men who had been
busily shooting each other down talking over details of work and taking
orders from one another as if nothing had happened."
"How long ago was that?"
"Only about two months," I explained, "but you need expect nothing of
that kind on this side. The workmen never cross the bridge save when on
pleasure bent, or when our July fair-time fills the green yonder with
the din of booths, circuses, and penny theatres."
Nevertheless, Alida's face continued to express trouble.
"But Rhoda Polly, her mother, and the others--are they in danger?"
"Not, I think, for the moment. The more serious the news from Paris, the
less will the men think of their grievances against the Company and the
Company's manager. Last time the siege was bitter and determined on both
sides. Many were killed. Yet it was no more than a trade dispute which
Mr. Deventer could have settled in half an hour if the men had brought
their grievances directly to him, instead of trying to wreck the works
for the safety of which he is responsible."
"We must go and see for ourselves," said Alida imperiously. "If there is
danger for my friends, I must be there to share it."
"You must not do anything of the kind," I cried, "you do not understand
the fierce blindness which comes upon men at such times. I shall go, if
necessary, and you shall stay with my father and Linn in the refuge
which those who love you have chosen for you."
"Then if I let you go, you will come back and tell me all--remember, do
not put me off with lies such as they tell to ordinary women."
I promised, and as we stood looking across the glistening waters I saw
for the second time in my life the tricolour flutter down from its
staff, and after a pause the shining "Tatter of Scarlet" of the red
revolution blow out on the valley wind.